Torchwood 2 Hell Hath No Fury - Part 5

[denacacra.livejournal.com]

Title: Torchwood 2: Hell Hath No Fury

Spoilers: CoE

Characters: Janto, Martha Jones and mention of Owen Harper and Gwen Cooper/Williams. RTD owns them. All other characters are my own and I promise that I take care of my own

Genre: fix-it fiction for CoE via Torchwood 2

Rating: this is 15 probably for some bad language (though it might be a 12 at the moment). It’ll go up to 18 later as it will have adult content later, but nothing yet.

beta'd by janiemc and kelticbanshee - thank you!

 

'Could you try not to draw attention to us, Arthur. And slow down,' ordered Innes, risking a glance at the SUV's speedometer  and groaning at what he read off the dial. He knew that he was gripping the seat with fear.

        ‘Don’t worry, Innes. I have everything under control.’

‘This isn’t the Hockenheimring. Christ sake, slow down. One hundred and twenty five is too fast on these  roads. You’ll get us both killled.’

‘Not going to happen,’ replied Arthur, slamming through the gears as he hauled the SUV round the sharp turns of the country road. ‘Worst case scenario? I’ll walk away.’

‘And what if you get clocked by her majesty’s constabulary?’

‘They won’t remember. I’ll do the eye thing. Or worse. Look, Innes, the quicker we get down there. Right to the middle hill. The sooner we’re in and the sooner we are out.’

Innes turned as much of his attention as he could to the packs they had brought. It was the type of procedure which required nothing high tech, but which demanded precise protection none the less, and Innes wanted to be ready.

‘You haven’t forgotten anything, have you?’ asked Arthur, suddenly, watching the way Innes was raking through the packs.

‘Chainmail. Warm blankets. Protein bars. God, I hope he hasn’t eaten anything.’

‘Food’s the least of the problems. We can put him on a purge if he has. They’ll be playing their games. He’ll have no idea what day it is. Or what year. That is if he’s lucid,’ snarled Arthur.

‘Don’t start, Arthur. I don’t want you going in there with your adrenaline up. We have to go in there calmly.’

‘I can be calm. I just don’t like them. They’re the only damn things that give me the shivers.’

Innes grunted a collusive reply. He wished that shivers were all he suffered  from the Sidhe.

 

They parked up next to a farm gate which offered a simple access into a field and the three hills which sat at the north end of the pasture. Approaching from the south had added a few miles on to their journey, but neither Innes nor Arthur had felt inclined to stop in the town which sat to the north of the trio of hills.

The central, conical mound was their target. As they marched towards it, Innes fastened up his kevlar jacket and took deep breaths.

‘Think she’ll be expecting us?’ laughed Arthur, lightly, flexing his shoulders.

‘Always,’ came the reply.

As they approached the hill, Arthur noticed movement on its slope.

‘Welcoming committee,’ he whispered. ‘Up on the hillside.’

‘How many?’ asked Innes, not even trying to locate the Sidhe.

‘Six. No. Seven. Male. Armed.’

‘Fuck ‘em,’ growled Innes, pulling heavy mail gloves from his pockets and fitting them carefully on to his hands. ‘Then we better be armed too,’ he added, adjusting the mail hood which lay in heavy folds around his neck.

The two men strode forward, not altering their course in any way. As they drew close to the foot of the hill, Innes began to see the Sidhe wardens. He tried to ignore them and kept his steady pace towards a rocky outcrop. The Sidhe came careering down the slope, taking long legged strides which belied the speed at which they moved.

‘Good evening, lads,’ said Innes evenly. ‘I think your lady will be expecting us.’

 

The sounds of singing and harping echoed round the tunnel which they were led along.

‘He’ll have gone nuts if he’s had to listen to a bellyload of that,’ said Innes, quietly.

‘Thought he was Welsh,’ replied Arthur. ‘

‘Wales happens to occupy the same timeline as us. Which means endless bardic harping has been out of fashion for quite some time.’

The music was a danger, they both knew it. It could twine around a man’s senses. It made you forget. It made you believe whatever the Sidhe wanted you to. It could be fatal. Innes was reassured by Arthur’s presence. The music never concerned Arthur.

As they marched forward, Innes flexed his mailed fists and shrugged the hood over his head , while Arthur seemed to be involved in some internal conversation, muttering under his breath and keeping his gaze on the Sidhe who proceeded them. The tunnel grew brighter, sparkling with the candle light.

‘This is not well met, man,’ declared a light, shimmering voice.

Innes turned sharply, glancing over his left shoulder. And there she was, more bonny than moonlight was how she had once been described and still she was beautiful, in that cold, cruel way that the Sidhe had.

‘Just taking no chances, my lady,’ he replied, inclining his head in the slightest of bows.

The Queen came towards him, her hair tumbling around her waist in dark coils, her gown draped and knotted with silk cords, the bodice shining with hundreds of precious stones. And from the gauntlet on her left hand to the long laced brogued boots upon her feet, everything was glorious shades of green. Her eyes, her lips, her skin was all green. Everything except the gold in which she was draped and circleted in.

‘You have brought a monster among us all,’ she said, slowly.

Arthur growled, mostly for effect. He could feel his pulse hammering in his veins. He could hear all their hearts, skipping and sloping in their imperfect beats, but through it all, somewhere in the shadows, came the one two one two he recognised. 

‘He’s here, Innes. He’s alive at least.’

‘He’s wrong,’ said the Queen. ‘He is filthy and he is wrong. He has no corruption upon him. His flesh was not hanging.’

‘That must have been a hell of a disappointment,’ said Arthur sharply.

‘There is a glamour upon him. In him. Keeping him. It is waning. But it has sent life into his veins again and again.’

Innes laughed. The sound clearly confounded the Queen, and it confused Arthur. It was genuine laughter. And it had been a long while since Innes laughed about anything.

‘Harkness. You dog,’ Innes said, still laughing. ‘Well. Well. Maybe it’s catching.’

‘What?’ 

‘I’ll tell you later, Arthur. In the meantime. We’ll be taking what you have. If he is so wrong.’

‘And what would you give in return? There has to be a trade.’

‘In return I promise that Arthur here will not take down any of your men.

‘Monster,’ she spat.

‘Green freak,’ retorted Arthur, beginning to pace.

‘As you can see. He doesn’t like  your living arrangements. He would be perfectly happy tearing this hall down. And if the mood takes him. Well.’

‘If he touches my lads, it will go ill for you.’

‘Like to see them try. The first one to lay hands on me will find his skin burning into his flesh. Give me what we came for. Or we will salt the earth and drive iron into it. Now. My lady. Please play nicely.’

The Queen snapped orders at two of her men, while she kept a wary watch upon Innes.

‘You don’t want him,’ he continued. ‘Or the others. In your earth. So why not show clemency and release him without all this bother. We will take these troubles from you.’

‘They don’t function like that,’ said Arthur. ‘They want the fight.’

Innes frowned as two of the Sidhe lads pulled Ianto forwards.

‘Ianto Jones?’

Ianto nodded.

‘Good lad. We’re here to get you out of this place.’

‘Did Jack send you?’

‘No. This isn’t his area. We’re Torchwood Two. We deal with. Other concerns.’

Ianto nodded. He did not much care for explanations. Here he was, naked and disorientated, flanked by two green warriors, faced by one man dressed like a cross between a Templar and a biker, and another who was wearing nothing more than black jeans and a long sleeved top, and had a rucksac slung over one shoulder like some casual afterthought.

‘Can we go soon?’ asked Ianto. ‘I’d really like to go anywhere else … very soon.’

‘We’ll go. Imminently. Have you eaten?’

‘Nothing. Nothing to eat. Nothing to drink. It seemed important somehow ... maybe I read it. Or someone told me.’

‘Good lad. Now. Lady. You let us be. And sit back and listen to  your bard. We brought mead. Which you can have. We will leave it at the entrance.’

The Queen, clearly furious, nodded sharply.

‘Yes. Innes. You may go. And we will meet again.’

‘I know. But you should know. My guard won’t be down again. Ever. Ianto Jones. We are leaving.’

 

Ianto found himself marched along a wide, dark tunnel by the man called Innes, while the other made a more leisurely retreat. After what seemed like a walk of a mile or more, they walked out into the cool of the evening. The sky was dark, with only slivers of light as the setting sun reflected its rich tones off a few silvered  clouds. He dragged the clear air into his lungs and wiped tears away as he stood, relieved to feel a chill on his skin, relieved to be seeing a sky once more, relieved to be living.

‘Arthur. Leave the mead. And let’s get Ianto into the car. Fast as you like, Ianto. Before her majesty changes her mind.’

 

Ianto sat in the back of the car, wrapped round in blankets. He was trying not to bolt his way through the food.

‘Go easy. It’s been a few weeks since you were in any state to be eating.’

‘No, I don’t think so.  A few days I think, at the most’

‘Oh no. Weeks. That’s one of the dangers with them. You think you’ve been there a week and decades might have passed. Or worse. Sleekit gits.’

‘Where’s Jack? Why didn’t he come?’ asked Ianto, suddenly. Ever since these two strangers had walked into the subterranean hall, the thought had begun to fester, causing an unease that was almost more consuming than the fears he had suffered at the hands of the Sidhe. Innes’ reply caused a belly-wrenching spasm.

‘I don’t know. We’re working on that one. He’s. Gone. For the moment. But there’s a Martha Jones trying to locate him. For the meantime. Drink what’s in the bottles. Eat a little more. We’ll get you safe. And maybe you could go home.’

‘There’s nothing there ... nothing left. My God. My family will think I’m dead … won’t they?’

‘Ah,’ said Arthur. ‘Probably. But that can be fixed. Maybe.’

‘I could tell them it was a mix up. Wrong ident. Or something. Oh God. Jack. Thinks I’m dead. Oh. No. No. I’m so tired. Too tired to think. But I have to. I need to let him know.’

‘You don’t need to. Not for now. Just rest. Don’t fight it. There is plenty time. And we’ll get things sorted for you. I promise.’

Ianto sat in a stupor for most of the rest of the journey. He did not seem to notice the speed at which they were travelling or the distance Arthur was putting between the Eildon Hills and themselves. He looked down at his hands and tried to rub a little more of the dust and grime off them. Wrong. That female. The Queen. She had said that he was wrong. She had seemed disturbed by his presence. She had wanted him gone. Gone. And now Jack. Why would Jack have gone. 

‘How long have I been with them?’

‘Three weeks we reckon. But. It’s been. Just over seven months.’

‘Since what?’

‘Since. Since. Ianto. What can you remember?’

‘I remember … I remember that bastard in that box. Oh my God. The children. It wanted them.’

‘All the children. Almost. All. The children are fine. Jack beat it.’

‘My God. We went into the room with it. Why the hell did we do that? Christ, we shot at it.’

‘Innes has been thinking about that one,’ grinned Arthur. ‘He thought it was a bit gung ho. Even for this Harkness.’

‘You must have had some exposure to some psychotropes. Or something which occluded  judgement. Maybe in Thames House.  Or maybe through some other conduit.’

Ianto closed his eyes. Everything was clear. This Innes seemed to be expecting some blanks. Or complete amnesia. But everything was clear. Almost too clear, too precise for comfort.

‘What kind of conduit?’

‘I don’t know. Something they had contact with. Had some sort of connection with. That they could have … well … infected you with. Tampered with your reasoning.’

‘Clem. There was this man ... Clem. I wonder what happened to him. They nearly took him in the Sixties.  He reacted like the kids did, with the screaming and the chanting.’

‘Did you have any direct contact with him?’

‘He was there … with us. In the warehouse. Christ! Gwen bloody Williams. She brought him there. She had talked with him before.’

‘That’s it then. The beastie in the box was playing a long game. It only took one of you to be in contact with their conduit.’

‘She brought him right into the middle of us all.’

‘Well. Sorts that bit of the story for me at least. Slow down Arthur! We’re in town now. Try to be normal.’

‘Seven months? What happened to me? I remember … I remember talking to Jack. Then … then it was dark. No air … and then those things had me. What happened to the rest of the time?’

‘Let’s get you showered and dressed. And we’ll batten down the hatches for the night, and we can talk a bit more.’

‘Like when I’m gone?’ laughed Arthur.

‘Aye. Exactly. When you’re gone and are tucked up safe and sound in your great big house, Ianto and I will fill in the blanks.’

 

Comments

[wanda1969.livejournal.com]

Like I said before, I'm very pleased this is back. And the story is coming together very nicely!